Chapter 42

(Baron Edreth's Fortress)

"Lord Edreth, Malfias is here to see you," a security agent reports.

Edreth raises his head from the plate of food with a chunk of meat hanging out from his mouth; it falls back onto the china soon after, and he swallows. "Send him here," he orders the guard.

"Right away, my lord."

Five minutes later, the door opens again, and Malfias enters the castle's main dining hall. The chamber is spacious enough to contain a massive celebration with a long, rectangular, wooden table extending from the entrance to the opposite side and three smaller, circular tables of an identical material to the left and right each. Aside from Edreth, his wife, Malfias, and two personal servants, the room is vacant. Hanging in the center of the room is a grand, metal chandelier providing the primary light source from its lit candles. Above that is a painting on the ceiling depicting a battle where an army of mounted cavalrymen and a dragon chase away another army from a city under siege; Malfias takes a moment to stare at it.

"I see you're interested in the picture," Edreth utters from the other side of the table.

"I've seen other paintings depicting the Battle of Edgepoint in the 2nd Age, but not as grandiose as this."

"Some baron way before me wanted to show the battle in its glory, including the Aris Aram and the Riders of Norwich forcing the Soulmonger’s army from the Ashlands to retreat." Edreth makes a hand gesture towards an empty seat next to him in front of Sheilra. "Come. Sit. Your feet must be killing you from the walk." As soon as Malfias sits down on the seat after removing his cloak, the two female servants give him a plate, silverware, and a goblet full of wine. "I was starting to think that you didn't get my message."

"I was occupied with running a large family to help my father," Malfias utters as he sips some wine. "Mmm. What kind of wine is this?"

"It's a twenty-year-old wine made from the Ozaccio Winery with grapes in the Secco Valley in Lutis. I heard the family is rapidly gaining a good reputation despite being relatively new to the industry." Edreth also takes a sip.

"Must not be chintzy from your description," Malfias comments.

Edreth leans in his chair. "Actually, you'll be surprised. Part of the reason for the reputation is the wine so far has great quality for a more affordable price." He notices the lack of comestibles on Malfias's plate. "Don't be shy, have some food."

Malfias begrudgingly fills his plate with a small number of green grapes on the stem, a salad, and a slice of turkey. "There better be a reason, other than chit chat, why you're making me take valuable time out of my schedule, Lord Edreth."

"There is, Malfias. It's about the riot from two days ago. Actually, it's the whole unrest in Belburn in general."

Malfias casually throws a grape in his mouth. "Finally, you see the light."

"I believe you are behind it," Edreth accuses.

You wouldn't be the first nor the last to arraign me of such things. Malfias tosses another grape. "I'm appalled that you would inculpate me of such things."

"Maybe not you, but another Hearthrow is," Edreth says.

"The Hearthrow family will never stoop that low. Never have, never will."

Edreth extends his arms wide. "Come on, Malfias, I'm well aware of the game your family and six others-well seven, but one doesn't count due to being brand new- are playing enough to know that any family is not above those sorts of tricks."

"Then I suggest you throw your accusations on one of them instead of me or my family." 

"The Hearthrows have the most resources and influence, dead even to the Balcerans in the Myrithian continent, and the Hearthrows have a foothold in Adoran, so forgive me focusing on your clan." Edreth picks turkey meat off a bone from a turkey wing.

Malfias sips more wine. "I'm perplexed that you already forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"Linay Montin was in an arranged marriage to Julin Rethan, the son of the baron in Meybury, five years ago. So, the Montins are in Adoran and are in a powerful location; the Sturns have the Fertilelands in the south. If you count Port Direrun, then all of the most prominent families have a foothold, except for those overgrown kobolds of the Gaaruuk family, and I'm sure that the others are eyeing up your position just as much as me, if not more. I already said it once earlier today, but I'll reiterate it; having tunnel vision will allow your other opponents to slip through and fulfill their task before you can even process who's the culprit." 

During their conversation, Sheilra eats silently and listens intently. Whenever she tries to add herself in to change the subject or inject her input, Edreth would say, "Not now, honey, the men are having an important conversation," to shut her up. One of the servants, noticing the empty goblet by Malfias, attempts to fill it back up but has a mishap that escalates into her spilling the wine on herself and the floor with a shatter of the glass. 

Edreth snaps his fingers to beckon the servant over, and he violently beats her twice. "Take your clothes off," he orders.

"What, my lord?" The servant asks.

"Your clothes... they're filthy. Take them off, take them to the washroom, come back here and clean this up, and you better not put any layers of clothing on when you come back. Then you can get a new set of your uniform." Following his instructions, she strips down to her bare skin, facing everyone right in front of her without bothering to cover her breasts and pussy, leaving with the stained uniform. Sheilra discreetly hands Malfias a note underneath the table during the commotion. Edreth turns his head towards Malfias. "My apologies for that, Malfias."

Malfias waves that aside. "No need for that. It's nice to know that there are still men that aren't timorous enough to rightfully punish those that serve them."

"I can't do that wherever I go, or else I will vitiate my image in front of the public, but I do it when I can."

"Your image?"

"Image, reputation, legacy… whichever suits you. Anyway, of all people, you should know how important it is to maintain it or else you will lose everything if the skeletons come out. Some men go to great lengths to keep it that way."

"Are you making a threat against me?" Malfias inquires forcefully, leaking a diminutive portion of his mana into his body as a reaction. Hmm. When did Edreth alter his mana?

"Call it a warning," Edreth says calmly. The naked woman returns and commences cleaning her mess.

"Call this one a warning; if I go down, I'll take all of you down with me if you don't end up like the Drisdells first." Malfias stands up from the chair and puts on his cloak. "I consider my time here is over."

"We'll see each other again soon."

When Malfias leaves the dining hall, he feels it's safe during his walk down the hallway to read the note from Sheilra. 

He is not who you think he is.

I had a suspicion that his mana was off, but I don't do anything drastic unless I have more evidence, Malfias thinks. He smirks after reading the note. My advice would be helpful to Edreth, and it hasn't been an hour. A mental note to myself, get some spies to gather more dirt on Edreth. He has more skeletons than I do. 

(Septham 15th Year 672 of the 4th Age)

(Howling Gale)

"Fucking shit! Fucking shit!" Lorna shouts while at the helm of the Howling Gale. The ship floats above the water motionless except rising and falling from the waves as a man-o'-war bearing the spider symbol of Pheha ties itself to it. Everyone of Lorna's crew scrambles in panic while waiting for the Drow to eventually come on deck. Arven, Kaera, Merrick, Myla, and Sylfinas are below deck by Lorna's command and to remove anything Adoranian on them should the Drow find them.

All the panic causes Lorna to snap. "Shut the fuck up! We faced way worse shit than the Phehans, and we all lived to tell the tale. Those Drow on the neighboring ship are nothing compared to sailing in a cyclone, a sea titan chasing us, winning an assault against a heavy fortress and several ships from Zemmerk, or those snake bastards recently. The late Coral King struck more fear in us after we ruined his most prized ship, and we still have our heads. So stop running around screaming like headless chickens, and we'll get through this without a scratch."

"Clink-clank," Bolts says.

"Well, that was the best I can do. I don't do speeches very well," Lorna responds to only Bolts.

A plank from the other sea vessel lands on the Howling Gale, and four female Drow walk across the chasm to the other side with the captain leading the pack. The captain stands at 5'0" with long, curled, white hair, smooth, black skin, and a lean build on her body. Hanging out of her square, stunning face is a pipe with smoke coming out of it; as she removes it, her left hand is missing two fingers. Her green eyes scan the deck at the people of various races she considers vermin before settling on Lorna.

"You must be the captain of this filth?" She questions Lorna in a high pitch voice that sounded natural.

"I am," Lorna answers, and she leaves her position at the wheel and walks towards the Drow. "Captain Lorna's the name. Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Captain Zarxyra of the Shade Serpent. You are in the territorial waters of Pheha, and I must search your ship. In my discretion, I may have to take everyone on this ship to the mainland or sink it if you resist us."

"Last time I checked, this is Krusian waters, and they allow any vessels to travel across beside you cunts. You have no authority here, and I suggest you leave before I get Laz over here and order him to shove an anchor inside of your big fucking ass."

Zarxyra snaps her fingers, and the three other Drow commence searching the ship, checking the contents inside containers, and going through the crewmembers before going below deck. "State the name of business you have on these waters," She orders.

"Like hell, I'll share my business with a Moss-kisser like you," Lorna replies.

"Being obstructive towards my legal search will bring nothing but trouble. I have every single cannon I can possibly point at your ship armed and ready to fire. If need be, I'll have my crew shoot even if I'm still on it, and I'll gladly sink to Arlgeon's locker if it means dragging everyone else also. State your business, and where do your loyalties lie?"

"Loyalties are to anyone that hires my crew and me. It changes constantly."

Zarxyra writes it down on a piece of paper. She then glances at the doors to Lorna's quarters. "I'll be checking your private chambers right now. I don't want you or anyone else inside until I'm done with my search."

Lorna tenses up and turns more aggressive. "Nobody is allowed in there unless I explicitly say so, and I explicitly say 'fuck no, cunt’ to you." She blocks Zarxya's path.

"You're making it really easy to blast this vessel to bits," Zarxyra says.

Down below deck, the three other Drow scour every inch they can possibly think of, from opening containers and shelves to tipping over mattresses and slashing holes in them and pillows. Their search eventually brings them to the room where Arven, Kaera, Merrick, Myla, and Sylfinas are; Myla is currently hidden. One Drow moves on ahead, leaving the other two to confront them.

"Stay right where you are," One of the Drow commands.

"What are your names, and what's your purpose?" The other inquires.

"I'm Sylfinas," Sylfinas answers, "this is Arven, Kaera, and Merrick. We're just guileless passengers on a peregrination to witness the world."

"Where are you from? Where do your loyalties lie?" The first Drow inquires.

"We are from various parts of the world, and our allegiance is always to our home nation."

"I need specifics, double Iblith." With weapons now drawn, the Drow starts rummaging through everyone's pockets. 

"We are from Eltyr," Sylfinas answers, pointing to himself, Arven, and Merrick.

"I'm from Canir," Kaera responds.

"Where did you get those tattoos," one of the Drows asks Merrick, touching it with her blade.

"Eltyr," Merrick answers, going along with the lie. Announcing to the Dark Elves that he's a Wildborn is not in the best of his interests.

Furthering their investigation in the room, the Drows inspect the weapons. They quickly become inimical when they find a seal of a dragon in the blades. They draw their sword with jagged edges in response to the discovery. "You four are under arrest," they both say altogether. Their attempt freezes when they hear a high-pitched yell from the third Drow nearby, followed by a brief struggle and then silence. They leave to confront the unknown threat, and they discover Laz with their companion's head with the spine attached in his hand.

"You two fucking Murkers also want to disturb my nap?" Laz antagonistically asks. He captures one Drow and sluggishly strangles her with the spine while the other successfully flee. The success abruptly ends when she careens into the business end of Arven's sword.

"I'm starting to think the negotiations above aren't turning out so well for Lorna," Arven comments. 

"Do we want to stay here, or do we go above deck?" Merrick questions.

"If we go above, it may increase suspicion that something's amiss that someone appears without the Drow accompanying them. The ship we saw had more cannons on it than we do, and I'm certain they are armed and ready. They won't hesitate to sink us as soon as they have reason to."

"I can go up and help negotiate," Sylfinas offers.

"No offense, Sylfinas, but your track record is abysmal when it comes to negotiating," Arven replies.

"At least I buy more time before carnage starts, unlike you," Sylfinas retorts.

From the closet in propinquity to the group, Myla opens the door outward enough from inside to peak out. "Is it safe to come out now?" Sylfinas signals to her it's safe after everyone cleans up the mess; Sitting beside him, she says, "There is another group heading towards us, about the same size as the first one."

"It's probably additional Phehans," Kaera postulates, growing concerned.

"It's on the opposite side of the first group," Myla responds.

"Sounds like it's something disparate," Sylfinas utters with curiosity. Vacating the bed, he leaves the room. "I'll check it out." He's out of sight before Arven can say anything more to him, and Arven sighs while sitting back down on the bed; on his route to the above deck, he follows Laz, dragging the head and spine of a Drow on the floor, without him realizing he's behind him.

"Captain!" One of the Drow yells to Zarxyra. "Captain, we have a Krusian man-o'-war sailing towards us! Shall we abandon our raid on these filths?"

"Execute the necessary preparations! I'll warn the rest!" Her task abruptly stops when Laz steps from below deck; he gleefully holds the Drow's head and slowly swings the spine. "What did you do to the others, Iblith?" she angrily demands.

"First, I killed this beauty here; she made the unfortunate mistake of opening the door to my room, disturbing my sleep, and it cost her her life. The Murker filled my ears with delightful sounds of screaming as I effortlessly overpowered her, and I leisurely jerked her head by her hair. It was a struggle at first but became facile when the skin and flesh gave way from her neck, and the whole spine came out in addition to the head. I strangled the second murker with the spine; my blood pumped harder and harder in excitement from her struggles and for snuffing out her life as her breath became fainter." From the way Laz is narrating his story, he is savoring every detail he describes. He then continues in his regular voice, "Some bastard got the other one, so I couldn't relish taking another Murker's life for the third time, so I came up here to find more victims. It looks like I have another Murker ripe for the picking."

Zarxyra quickly bolts back to her ship and kicks the plank into the water. With nothing holding it back and the wind at the sails, the Shade Serpent departs before the Krusian ship traps it. "I will remember this, you Ibliths! My wrath of vengeance will be so fierce that the Nine Hells will be paradise next time we meet! You haven't seen the last of Captain Zar ...." The distance and ocean sounds drown out the rest of her long threat. 

Another man-o'-war with the sea serpent flag of Krusia sails next to the Howling Gale, and the captain appears on the side of the deck, initiating the conversation. "I'm Sergiusz Wieckowski, captain of Kurane's Breeze. Who is the captain of your ship?"

Lorna raises her hand. "I'm Captain Lorna; we appreciate you scaring off the fucking Chimney Sweeps."

"Those Chimney Sweeps believe they own more waters than they actually do; they're really pissing us off that we're considering sinking any Phehan ships in our waters without warning to get our point across. Where are you sailing to?"

"To Lutis." During their dialogue, Lorna has to kick Bolts away due to its tantrum.

"If you allow us, we can escort until we reach Lutisian waters to ward off any Phehan ships that decide to hinder you. We're traveling in the same direction on a mission to the Romboia Islands."

"I believe that is a solid idea."

"We'll let you sail first, and we'll be close behind."

Listening to the conversation down below, Sylfinas scurries back to share the news with the rest of his party. "You won't believe who's here!" He says with excitement.

"Who's here?" Merrick inquires.

"The group Myla warned us about were Krusians. Their captain just offered to escort our ship until we arrive in the Lutisian waters to Lorna, and she accepted."

"That's pleasant to know that we have someone else maintain a lookout," Arven says with relief. "Maybe the sight of their flag is more of a deterrent to any future Phehan attempts to raid our ship."

"That's pleasant to know," Kaera attempts to sound joyous. To her, Sylfinas might as well add a Kraken or some other revulsion to the mix.

"Something the matter, Kaera," Myla asks, trying to provide comfort.

"The only issue is Krusia is one of several nations that have a negative stigma towards Fenri," Kaera replies, and she lays her head down on her pillow; her mood soured by the news.

Sylfinas sits beside Kaera and attempts to comfort her. "I doubt the Krusian knows you're on this ship. I didn't hear Lorna revealing us, and the other captain wasn't interested in knowing and sounded more eager to move."

"That's reassuring," Kaera bitterly says.

"Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Rewind time and stop yourself from revealing the info to me."

"I'm afraid that is beyond my capabilities."

"Then the only option is for the Krusians to leave."

"I apologize for putting you in a sour mood."

"I'm not angry at you, Sylfinas. I'm mad at the relationship between my country and the other nations. Aeyis is the only one out of four neighboring countries that maintains a positive relationship between Canir."

"Who are the other two nations that hate yours?" Merrick asks.

"Iraerith and Novik."

"And why do they execrate Fenri?" Sylfinas inquires.

"I'm assuming you mean 'hate,' so I'll go with that. I don't know why they do."

"Maybe we'll discover the reason during our journey to your home."

"Home." The word sounds congenial in Kaera's mind, but she hides her frown from everyone in the room. I hope my mistake doesn't cost me it, and none of you succumb to my mishap.

(Belburn)

Having a table all by himself, Jemeir sips on a cup of freshly brewed coffee while waiting for Aila, Barion, and Radclyff to arrive. The position gives him peace of mind knowing no one can lurk behind him, and he has a wide field of view to read people in the room and the entrance. So far, no one shows any signs of malevolence towards him or the rest of the group; the people are either cheerful, depressed, or stressed in the case of several businessmen. He notes the stress levels in the staff and their jittery expressions even though they put on a facade of felicity when they serve the customers. Jemeir raises his hand to alert Aila, Barion, and Radclyff to his location when they appear at the entrance, and they seat themselves after that. The waitress tending to Jemeir shows up when she sees three more people with him. Aila goes with a simple ham and cheese omelet and milk to drink, and Jemeir orders the Haystack, shredded potatoes fried in a skillet with scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, and smothered in sausage gravy. Barion and Radclyff go with a dish dubbed "The One and Only." It is a three-pound dish with home fries and sausage gravy, an omelet with veggies, bacon, ham, shredded pork with a yellow sauce on top, and a steak. They both get orange juice to drink.

"I need to talk to you," Radclyff speaks in a staid tone while waiting for breakfast. Aila and Barion already know the story, so they keep silent.

"Some shit must've gone down hard at your place last night," Jemeir responds after he imbibes his last amount of coffee. He requests a refill and the waitress promptly fills it.

"We won't have to look for the blond woman anymore."

"You found her?"

"More like she found my family and me… and self-destructed." Radclyff lowers his voice at the self-destruction part.

"She blew herself up?" Jemeir inquires in disbelief, also in a lower voice but higher than Radclyff's.

Radclyff nods his head affirmatively. He continues to speak in a low voice, "Did it right outside my home after Barion and I chased her down, and I pinned her. That's not the biggest news I need to share." He pulls out the note and hands it to Jemeir. "I managed to snag this from her before she tried to blow us up. Read the signature." 

Taking the paper and reading it, Jemeir furrows his brows at the name. "Shatathyor...the Rakshasa. He's finally back for vengeance." Dread presses him further into the chair as he slouches against it. "This just went from bad to worse. Gods be damned."

"My sentiments exactly, Jemeir."

"We need to be extra vigilant. No telling on who's the Rakshasa."

The waitress comes back with food in hand. "Here are your orders. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No thanks," all four answer, one after the other. Eavesdropping on the waitress's conversation with the other staff, Aila distances herself from the rest of Jemeir's and Radclyffs's discussion. The dialogue from the team is about their future at the Nagging Goat. The rumor is that Berlt, the barkeeper and owner, is dead, and the building may be shut down. Barion and Radclyff astonish the staff with their empty plates; they head into Jemeir's room to resume their esoteric chat in placidity.

"Jemeir, you need to know this," Aila speaks after she shuts the door.

"What's wrong?" Jemeir inquires.

"I was listening in on the staff's colloquy, and apparently, the owner is dead from a heart attack, and this tavern may be shut down if no one takes over. You may need to find somewhere else."

That explains the anxiety in the staff. "I'll keep that in mind, Aila. Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"I say Malfias is our Rakshasa," Barion says with certitude.

"Let's not get too hasty, son," Radclyff warns.

"Why? From the description you and mom gave about them at home, he's the perfect suspect," Barion controverts.

"You could be right, although you never dealt with one. The Rakshasas love to misdirect." The Fenri groans as he lifts his head to the sky. "I can't believe I actually agree with Malfias, but he's right; don't get too fixated, or else you'll miss something, and it comes back to bite you in the ass. We'll put your theory in reserve for now, and if you're right, you decide what you want as a reward."

"That's a deal, dad." To mark their agreement, Barion and Radclyff shake hands.

"We still don't know where to look first," Jemeir points out. "Our main lead ended up in a million chunks of flesh and blood."

"The note!" Aila exclaims.

"What about it?" Radclyff asks. "All it is is an order by Shalathyor to assassinate us."

Jemeir catches on to what Aila's thinking. "It's the handwriting. We just need to match the handwriting to uncover Shalathyor, but we can't go around and ask everyone to write stuff; it'll take too long, and a sizable percentage will refuse."

"We could come up with an event comparable to the Harvest Festival and force them to sign their names to come in," Radclyff suggests. "Then we can compare their names to the note, and the closest handwriting match is the prime suspect."

"There's Diamond Financial. It's the most popular bank in Belburn," Barion offers and stares at Aila and Radclyff. "I remember the tellers wanting your signatures when you first opened an account there, and they have it on file. Various penmanships are already there for you to compare to the note."

Jemeir rubs his chin. "Not a bad idea. Security will be tight, but Aila and I can infiltrate when twilight comes."

"So, is it settled?" Radclyff asks.

"It is settled; we wait until sundown."

(Wilderness)

Splashing cold water over himself, Heilim is in a creek bathing along with Tylon; their clothes are hanging on a couple of rocks drying after they wash away the blood from it, and Scarlette is grazing in a field nearby. After being in the creek for forty-five minutes, they put on the first layer of clothing when they hear a cry for help in the distance. Accompanying the call for help is multiple sounds of a monster in pursuit. The more Heilim can discern the voice, the more dread he feels as there is one person he knows can make that sound. To his dismay, a male Halfling comes barreling towards him with three owlbears trailing behind, and the Halfling recognizes Heilim.

"Heilim! Help!" the Halfling frantically yells.

"What the hell did you do this time, Grifo?" Heilim shouts. "Don't tell me you got caught letting someone play your flute again!"

"This is not the time to bring that up!" Grifo screams. His tiny, stubby legs are in overdrive. "Come on! Hurry up! Use your Skin Changer form now!" he says, overwrought as he hides behind Heilim. Tylon fires a bolt from his crossbow, and it sinks into the thick hide of an owlbear.

And I actually have to, thanks to you. "I hate being part of your clean-up crew," Heilim utters before transforming. Tylon looks on in awe and horror as the humanoid physique of Heilim morphs into a more enormous bipedal, feral-like wolf with brown fur, sharp claws and fangs, and a tail; the articles of clothing disappear instead of tearing apart. In werewolf form, Heilim raises his head up to the sky and howls after transformation.

"Who shall I feast on today?" Heilim asked energetically in a voice utterly different from his regular voice. Ignoring his actual weapons by the rock, he charges ahead on all fours straight to the owlbear on his left and leaps on its back, sinking his teeth in its neck and slashing away with his claws. Grifo migrates over to the same rock with the clothes and equipment for self-preservation, not having cover to hide behind. Tylon fires another bolt at the same owlbear causing it to target him and charge; the third owlbear decides to go after him. His immediate course of action is to dash to a tree and vault up to a branch. Thinking he's safe, he fires another bolt after loading it and hits the injured owlbear in the eye. His safe spot becomes evident that it's not so safe when he feels vibrations from the owlbears bashing their heads and using their paws to knock the tree over; Vallo is still busy with his owlbear, so, Tylon can't rely on him to help soon. 

A rock impacts the muscular body of the owlbear without injuries and turns its attention towards Grifo. The eyes and rage cause him to reconsider his choice. "Well, that was a terrible idea on my part. Back to the rock I go!" The adrenaline gives him the boost in speed not thought possible in Halflings, and he scurries up the boulder to the highest point. The monster proves he's not safe as it stands on its hind legs, allowing it to swipe at him or use its beak. A mass of fur, claw, and fangs barrels into the owlbear and knocks it off balance, and Heilim pounces on it, taking aim at its jugular. 

Tylon watches on in amazement from the tree after he lodges another bolt at his owlbear at the back of uvula when it roars at him. He witnesses Heilim tear the jugular from the owlbear by his teeth and consume it; the creature takes its last few gargles before dying.

After the fight is over and the site is clear from danger, Grifo slides down from the rock, and Tylon walks back from the tree. "Thank the gods. I'm eternally grateful that I ran into somebody I know that is a capable fighter, or else I-" Grifo gets cut off by the forceful grab and hoist from Heilim in his werewolf form. "And now I'm a dead Halfling," he chuckles nervously.

"You couldn't keep it in your pants now, could you? And now you're broadening your horizon too," Heilim's werewolf form angrily speaks.

Grifo drops his jaw and looks flabbergasted. "How dare you, good sir? Just because one of my ten sexual ...."

"Twenty," Heilim says, "and that's all I can think of so far."

"Ok. Just because one of the twenty sexual endeavors you rescued me from just so happened to be an ogre does not mean I'm attracted to monsters, and that ogre proved helpful in the long run for the record."

"What are you doing here?" Heilim demands.

"I'll tell if you drop your werewolf form," Grifo answers sternly.

Heilim reverts back to his standard form with everything still on him. "You're lucky that time ran out. Now answer the damn question!"

"Ok, ok. So demanding. I was traveling to Siartin for some inspiration because I've been having writer's block for quite some time now after finishing my Hallowed Ground series. I thought traveling and seeing parts of the world would galvanize me to write. I found a merchant convoy going to the same destination as me, and they allowed me to tag along so I didn't have to travel alone or hire guards or mercenaries for protection. The owlbears attacked us unprovoked. We had no idea they were near us, and they materialized out of thin air. I ran and ran until, by the grace of the gods, I found you two, and here we are, you holding me against the boulder while your friend over there watches." Grifo turns his head to Tylon. "I'm Grifo Longwood. What's your name?"

"Tylon Andilar," Tylon replies.

Heilim resumes his conversation with Grifo, "You would've been close by to reach us without becoming owlbear chow, but we didn't hear any commotion."

Grifo points a finger at Heilim. "Never underestimate a Halfling when death is on the line. I traveled quite a distance fleeing from them."

"Something's not right here," Heilim utters. He continues to speak while walking to each corpse, "In the wild, owlbears are solitary and never be with another one of its kind unless it's the mating season or a mother and her cubs. They are seldom seen around these parts." He checks where the reproductive organs are of each owlbear, and he exhausts himself by rolling two of them over for a better look. "All three are adult males so, they're either part of a raiding band or some force is driving them."

"It was those three that attacked, and no one else took part," Grifo responds.

"Gather our stuff, Tylon," Heilim orders. "We're leaving, now."

"You can't just leave me out here," Grifo protests, "not after what I just went through."

"It's safe, for now," Heilim says nonchalantly. "There's a village nearby you can go to and find people you can hire for the rest of your trip."

"You said you are going to Siartin, right?" Tylon inquires.

"Tylon don't," Heilim softly but sternly warns

"I am," Grifo answers.

"We're going there too. Why don't you come with us?" Tylon offers. Heilim gives Tylon a death glare.

"You're going to Siartin also?" The Halfling indignantly glares at the Certh. Why did you keep that minor tidbit to yourself, Heilim?"

"Because the years I spent with you were years too many," Heilim answers.

"Oh, come on, you enjoyed my company, and you know it," Grifo says, trying to extenuate the prior instances with a laugh. "We have many stories between us during our time together."

"Let's see," Heilim says while he looks at the sky, "It starts with some plan you concocted, it goes horribly wrong, usually to you since you go by yourself, and I end up saving your ass."

"That's not true… sometimes," Grifo responds. "There was that one time I scored you a date with a woman that was a solid ten on the hotness meter, and you got laid."

"I believe that was the one where she turned out to be a succubus and damn near got my soul."

"But, I gave you the tools of how to seduce women. We even had a competition of how many we get laid from. You gave me a run for my money."

"Did I?" Heilim asks skeptically.

Grifo nods. "Yes. There was also that time I rescued you from Daegovan Penitentiary."

 "After you got me sent there in the first place."

Grifo makes a circular gesture with his index finger on his left hand around his face. "You see this face? This is the face that does not fare well in prison, and it's my money maker. You were the only one that can hold his own, and you said you do anything to get that woman out of there."

"Could've given me a warning."

"When you fell gravely ill, and the ghouls came after us, I risked my neck being the bait and led all of them away."

"I'm sure it was because of your cooking."

"Rude. My cooking was not bad. I shouldn't have taken the shellfish from that shady-looking fella. Maybe this will convince you. I have information regarding suspected lycanthrope activity."

That piques Heilim's interest. "Where?"

"Let me tag along, and I'll tell you."

Perforce, Heilim replies, "You can come with us."

The Halfling excitedly claps his hands, grinning. "Excellent. According to my sources, a family of five was slaughtered in the Tumal region outside Garen's Well."

"That region is in turmoil from the protests. It was a matter of time before something like that happened."

"You didn't let me finish. My sources said there were claw marks that were similar to lions. According to my knowledge, lions don't roam anywhere in Adoran aside from zoos, but there are no zoos near the town, and the latest report of a lion breakout was fifty years ago."

"Alright, I'll head down there after we reach Siartin and drop him off," Heilim says and indicates Tylon.

"I heard Grifo called you a Skin Changer, and I saw you transform into a werewolf," Tylon utters to Heilim. "What are Skin Changers?"

"Indeed, I am one. Skin Changers are similar to lycanthropes for a humanoid to transform into a feral, bipedal animal. The main difference is Skin Changers gain their gift from Lymis or Fenra, the two goddesses, and they have full control of their alternate form, whereas lycanthropes struggle. A mage named Kazaran attempted his own Skin Changers that were supposed to be superior to the goddesses, but they were on to him, and for once in their lives, they teamed up and sabotaged his experiment. The lycanthropes you hear in stories and legends are from Kazaran's experiments. They lose all control and go on a rampage when they transform. A person with lycanthropy can tame it and become a Skin Changer, with the help from Lymis or Fenra, but it's impossible to do it in reverse."

"So why are two goddesses giving lycanthropy to random people?"

"They're sisters to the original god of lycanthropy before his imprisonment, and they have different takes for their reasons. For Lymis, it's because she believes that to defeat the darkness, you need to know it, and what better way to understand it than by embracing it to a certain extent. Fenra is just a bloodthirsty goddess, and her followers are as homicidal as her."

"So were you a Skin Changer the whole time or a lycanthrope that transitioned into one, and did Lymis or Fenra give you the power?"

"Lymis is the one obviously, or else you'll be dead way before now, and that's all I'm saying."

"That the reason why your style of execution is barbaric, like Jacsan's demise?"

"Not really, for the most part. It's mainly to spread my notoriety around, so people bother me less."

"What about Deserter and Kinslayer?"

Heilim's expression turns cold. "Don't ask those again."

Tylon throws his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Ok, ok. I won't until you're ready."

"Come on, we burned enough time standing around having a nice chit-chat. Let's get on the move."

(Belburn)

When it becomes twilight outside, Aila, Barion, Jemeir, and Radclyff are at the back of Diamond Financial to execute their plan since developing it at the Nagging Goat for breakfast. The procedure mainly involves Aila and Jemeir since they're the most stealthy dyad while Barion and Radclyff keep watch. 

Aila and Jemeir's first obstacle is the black, iron fence erecting twelve feet from the ground ending in a trenchant, pointy top. In one of the rare instances of providing use than lookout, Barion and Radclyff connect their hands together and lower them near the ground, leaving several inches of space, with their palms facing up. They provide a boost to Aila's and Jemeir's jumps after a running start, somersaulting in the air to show off. With more grace than Jemeir, Aila sticks her landing while he stumbles and recovers before consuming dirt.

Thirty feet from the fence to the two-story, stone building is completely open ground with outside patrol groups, so Aila and Jemeir hastily dash across and press their backs against the wall. Their way of infiltrating the bank is on the roof; hand over hand, they clamber up the building's side with the easiest handholds. Aila beholds security on the opposite side through windows in a triangular prism. Still, the guards are unaware of what's going on. 

To Aila's and Jemeir's providential benefit, there is also a door nearby with enough aegis to provide cover. With haste, they climb over the side and make it to safety in the nick of time as a guard swivels around and marches towards them, halting at a position near them that they have to remain static to stay silent. When the opportunity arrives, the duo seizes it and is now at the bottom of the bank's stairwell behind the stairs.

Jemeir pulls out an earring similar in appearance to the suicidal, female assassin and activates it by talking to it, "We're inside, Radclyff; can you hear us?"

A voice from the other end comes through distorted but audible enough to decipher the words. "Hear you loud and clear, Jemeir, albeit your voice sounds bizarre."

Pressing the earring against his ear, Jemeir replies, "You also sound peculiar on my end, but at least we can understand each other."

"That's fortunate for us, or else Barion and I would have a difficult time communicating with you from our vantage spot, which he and I will relocate there right now. We'll contact you if we spy someone or something heading your way, or you'll let us know when you reach the escape route. Good luck and tell Aila I wish her the same, and I also love her."

"Will do."

"Love you."

"Same here." Jemeir disconnects from the earring and rotates his head to Aila. "Radclyff wishes us luck, and he also loves you." He omits the part of the masculine Direfenri giving his affection to him.

"I gave a silent prayer to Kyren for his and Barion's safety, so I hope she received it."

Grunting from standing up, Jemeir walks towards the door. "The longer we stay, the greater the chance of security catching us. You detect any magic yet?"

Concentrating on her surroundings, she detects magic in the usual locations, glasses, and entrances. "Door in front of us is free from magic, but there are others out there, so watch your step." Jemeir laggardly opens the door to a tiny interstice to ensure their safety, expanding the opening further when it becomes evident that it is safe to proceed. The second floor overlooks the rectangular room below where the general public interacts with the bank tellers behind the crystal clear barriers; the foundation has tiles in the shape of the founder of Diamond Financial with three chandeliers with glass dangling from tiny metal chains and the triangular glass roof. There are five individual doors on the left side, where Aila and Jemeir are, and on the right side above the bank teller's station. Aila and Jemeir presume they are offices for loan officers, managers, and other positions higher than bank tellers, and the doors are secured due to Aila sensing magic on them. Over on the other side are another stairwell and three more offices. On their side, there is a stone staircase that diverges left and right from the main set with carpets and enough space to accommodate multiple people. 

Figuring the bank teller's station is where they will have the best fortune for success, Aila and Jemeir creep down the stairs and locate a door on the right with an "employees only" sign on it. The door refuses to budge after several jiggles from Aila, confirming her and Jemeir's suspicions that it's locked. Taking out her lockpicks, she is underway in lockpicking and unconsciously sticks her tongue out and to the side in focus. The unmistakable sound of a click signals success, and they enter the employees' section of the bank; the filing cabinets immediately greet them in the first room.

"You get A-L, and I'll get the rest," Jemeir suggests.

"Sounds perfect to me," Aila replies.

Scouring each separate file starting at both ends to meet in the center, Aila and Jemeir encounter information they feel guilty learning about. They know about who has business loans and mortgages, who's in the process of obtaining them, foreclosures and bankruptcies, money in accounts, and other private, sensitive info, but no sign of the signature that matches the handwriting of the Rakshasa so far. It takes a warning from Barion to snap Jemeir out of it.

"Mom? Jemeir? Can anyone hear me?" Barion inquires.

“This is Jemeir, Barion. What's wrong?"

Aila's eyes catch something off on a folder, and she holds it triumphantly over her head with one hand. "Take a look at what I found!"

Jemeir holds a finger to his mouth. "Shh! Barion's trying to tell us something," he hisses.

"What's he trying to say?"

"I don't know." Jemeir orients the earring for a better sound. "Can you repeat that again? I couldn't catch what you said."

"Four people are heading to the bank right now!" Barion cautions the stealthy duo, sounding frantic. "Get out or find somewhere to hide!" 

Pressing their ears to the door, Aila and Jemeir hear four men on the other side walking straight towards them less than a minute after Barion's warning. Jemeir locks it, and Aila returns the folder back to its original slot after removing two pieces of paper from it to maintain a look of normalcy. They retreat as far back as possible, ending at another locked door behind the bank teller's station.

Fear and adrenaline surging through her veins, heart rate at or near an all-time high for her, and the distorted voice of Jemeir in her ears, Aila triumphantly lockpicks the door after the third try, and she and the Human pass through, shutting it just in time. The room contains the ginormous, thick, metal, circular door to the vault and nooks and crannies for them to hide behind, and they proceed to do just that. The men wearing business suits enter the room and make a beeline to the vault, entering the code and all four pulling the door outward to reveal a cornucopia of wealth. They sound giddy in their conversation, taking stock inside.

"It's looking more and more apparent that war between Adoran and Pheha is inevitable," one man says.

"And that means an opportunity to line our pockets with some hard-earned coin by investing towards the weapon manufacturers. We can kick back, relax, and sip some cocktails on the sandy beaches of the Berboian Islands with whores on our sides from the massive dividends if the trend towards conflict continues," the second man adds with excitement before turning agitated. "If only the king would just take the final step."

"How much of this should we invest with?" The third male asks.

"I say all of it," the fourth replies.

Aila and Jemeir don't stick around to listen more of the colloquy while the means of escape are currently present, and they retrace their steps and depart from it when they see the main entrance is open and safe after a brief but thorough check. He alerts Barion and Radclyff of the sudden change in meeting point; they would all meet at the Nagging Goat instead.

"You looked like you struck gold earlier when your son tried to warn us," Jemeir utters as they do a brisk walk away from the bank. "What was it about?"

"Not at this time, Jemeir," Aila replies. "I'll tell you and others as soon as we meet or tomorrow. I believe I am on to something."